When I was in kindergarten, a girl brought a doll to class. It was so pretty that even the boys liked it. Everyone played with it but I was the one who broke it. She cried, of course, and I promised to get her a similar one. I asked my parents to get it for me for my birthday instead of the thing I had asked for. They agreed and thought it was a good idea. I gave it to her on my birthday. Her joy was the best payoff I could have received. At dinner, my dad gave me my own present. He said I had done the right thing and was proud of me.


One Reply to Things Remembered

Scott Hardie | October 7, 2021
That's a great story, Steve. Good on you.

If i may hijack your blog post with a story that's not so great, I've been haunted all of my life by a similar opportunity where I made the selfish choice.

When I was maybe 3, all of the neighborhood kids got invitations to a birthday party. My mother took me to the bookstore to pick out a gift, and we settled on a children's storybook about an anthropomorphized owl who delivers mail (long before Harry Potter). It came with a little toy figurine of the owl in his postal uniform, attached to the back of the book via netting made of thin cloth mesh.

I read the book, I liked the book, I wanted the book for myself, I wanted to play with the toy... I think you can see where this is going. My mother couldn't take me back to the store to buy one for me too, but I was just so desperate to play with the owl that I ripped open the netting and played with the owl and lost it. My mother didn't find out until she went to wrap it just before the party. I got a stern talking-to about things that are not mine no matter how much I want them, and then I had to hand-deliver the present with the ripped netting and missing toy.

I can't remember if i apologized to the birthday kid, but it's been decades and I have never stopped feeling guilty about it.


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